As You Wish
by Sedruce
Summary: Westley was with the Dreadpirate Roberts for an awful long time...what didn't he tell Buttercup about that?


As You Wish  
  
Author: Sedruce  
  
Rating: R  
  
Pairing: Westley/Dreadpirate Roberts  
  
Summary: Westley never told Buttercup everything about his stay with the Dreadpirate Roberts. He conveniently forgot to mention to her the adventures the two had together...alone...in bed.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these people, even if I dream I own that hottie Westley.  
  
@}~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I had told my love once, my precious Buttercup, that nothing could stop true love, and that is what we had. But there are other forms of love, too. Other than true love, I mean. I explored one of these once.  
  
When we were in that horrible fire swamp, I explained to Buttercup my adventures on the ship of the Dreadpirate Roberts, all about how I had asked for my life and he had given it, about my daily chores until he told me he was retiring. I never told her the whole story, and never will I. I cannot. What would she think? Not even true love can stand up to everything, and I fear this is one of those things which would destroy it. But before I launch into the epilogue, let me tell you the actual story.  
  
Of course, my ship was attacked by the Dreadpirate, and I had asked for my life and been granted that much. He told me I would have to earn my life from day to day. Never had I fathomed what he meant. I swabbed the deck and polished the wood, cleaned his clothes and prepared his food while learning how to fight and fence. One night, maybe a month into my services, I was called to the Robert's quarters. I assumed it was another menial task, so off I went, ready to dust his library or some similar such activity.  
  
When I entered, his gruff voice came from a chair with its back to me. "Close the door," he said, and I saw his black hair above the back of the chair. I pushed the heavy wooden door closed. "Lock it." I latched it, beginning to fear. "Come to me." I did so. He wore only leather breeches, as opposed to his usual blood-red pirate's outfit. "Sit." He motioned a chair across from him, so close our knees would be almost touching. I sat.  
  
"Westley," he said, "you've been in my service for only a short time yet. I have watched you faithfully working away, and I have observed you learning things from my crew when you're not busy slaving away for me." He paused for a while, and I didn't know if he would start up again.  
  
"Sir," I said slowly, cautiously. "This isn't about...killing me, is it?"  
  
He laughed, which was a new sound to my ears, and almost as frightening as the thought of him killing me and leaving Buttercup alone. "No, no my Westley, no." I must have visibly relaxed, for he next said, "Was that what you thought this was about?"  
  
"I have seen only horrible things happen to those who come in here and are told to close and lock the door, sir, only death comes from that," I replied, still a bit nervous, but considerably less so.  
  
"Depends on your definition of horrible about what will come of this meeting," he mumbled. I thought I had misheard him.  
  
"Pardon, sir?"  
  
"Oh, nothing my boy, nothing," he said, waving his hand as if to wave away the words from my memory. "Wesley, my point of what I was saying is this. As I watched you, it was first only to make sure you were worth keeping alive and feeding. But I remember the moment I saw you, I believe a week into your services, when you were wrestling, shirtless and sweaty, with one of my men. I watched your gorgeous blond hair-" he reached forward and gently played a bit of my hair between his fingers "-and your rippling chest muscles-" his hand gently moved down my cheek and neck to rest lightly on my chest before he pulled back "-and I couldn't help myself. Westley, I fell in love with you that moment. Your lovely, entrancing eyes did nothing to aid my ailment as I gave you your usual nightly words.  
  
"I can resist myself no longer, my dear, sweet Westley. I want--no, I need you. Now. Please, let me have you." This was not at all what I had expected the Dreadpirate to say. He was admitting to me he was in love? And no less, with me! I blinked a few times.  
  
"Sir, I do have a woman awaiting me at home," I said, almost regretfully. This had been the kind of experience I had wanted for so long. I had toyed with the idea of being with another man since before I was old enough to understand that men did not belong with other men. I had wanted to love and be loved by a man. I had wanted to toy with another man's member as I toyed with my own. But I had a woman now who I loved more than life itself, and I couldn't risk breaking her heart as my absence from her broke mine already, and the promise of a life of working for the Dreadpirate.  
  
"Yes, you have told me of her. She sounds beautiful. I myself have a woman at home, waiting, thinking herself a widow. But Westley, they are not here, they needn't know. And it hurts just to see you and not be able to have you. If I cannot have you, I'm sorry, but I will have one of my men kill you. I know none of them will jump at the opportunity, your kindness and integrity are making you admired by them all, but I will do it." I knew he meant it. With a sigh, I decided if my Buttercup ever found out, I would explain about being under promise of death and therefore permanent separation from her if I didn't give him what he asked for.  
  
"No word will reach my Buttercup?" I asked. He nodded. "And this affair will remain between only the two of us, none of the men?" Again, he nodded. "As you wish," I said. I wondered what Buttercup would think. But I couldn't think that now. I could only think of this, now. Thinking of Buttercup right now was, as a first, a turn-off. I often got hard thinking of her loving smile and golden hair, but I felt my cock getting softer and softer as I thought of her. Of her disapproval.  
  
"Would you rather wait for tomorrow night or begin tonight?" he asked. I had to admit, if only to myself, I was curious about how this would proceed. I wondered what he would do to me and ask me to do to him. I told him tonight. "Wonderful. Come, and remove your shirt," he said, standing. I stood and pulled off my black shirt, tossing it onto the chair before I followed him through another oaken door I had never before been allowed through, or to even see open.  
  
As I looked around, I smiled. So, this was Robert's chamber. It looked so homey. I laughed silently. It was no wonder really that I'd never been allowed in. Aside from the ropes tied to every redwood bedpost, it looked almost as though it was the bedroom of a woman.  
  
"Lie down on the bed," he instructed. I did so. "Now, put your arms up by the headboard." Again, I did so without question. As I looked up as what he was doing, I noticed a very artful rose inlaid on the headboard. I barely got to look at it for a moment before I noticed my left wrist being grabbed by Robert's calloused hands. I felt a rope being tied around it and I began to pull away.  
  
"It's alright," he insisted.  
  
I relaxed after a moment, said, "As you wish," and allowed him to tie me to the bedpost. He then tied my other wrist. I lay there, unable to defend myself. I had never felt so vulnerable. He came back around and straddled my waist.  
  
"How I have longed for this moment," he whispered, running a gentle finger over the curls of my chest hair. He leaned forward until I felt his bare chest on my own, his hands now caressing my medium-length hair. As he leaned his head in closer, I began to feel his breath play over my lips. I kept my eyes trained on his, just as he didn't break eye contact with me. I watched his chocolate-brown eyes as they neared me so much they began to go blurry.  
  
"I have wanted you since I met you, Westley. You think I let you live because you were in love with a girl?" he whispered. I felt his lips brush mine as he spoke.  
  
My body took control, my mind going numb. I lifted my head off the pillow and pressed my lips against his hard, kissing him for all I was worth. I closed my eyes and took his lip between my teeth, pulling gently until my head rested comfortably once more on the pillow. I probed his mouth with my tongue, feeling every warm, damp pleasure of his mouth and inhaling his stifled moans. He ran his hands down the sides of my head, over my broad shoulders, and back to my chest, kneading the muscles.  
  
"Are you really so hard to pleasure?" he whispered, obviously noticing my lack of moaning. I was about to say something, though to be honest I don't know what and it would probably have been nonsense anyway, when his finger accidentally brushed my nipple. I inhaled sharply, arching toward him. "Ah, I see," he murmured, softly playing with my left nipple until I couldn't hold back the moans anymore. He smiled and teasingly retreated his hand.  
  
"Please," I whispered. "Please, more." He grinned and leaned in to kiss me. This time it was his tongue probing and emitting moans from me. I pushed against his tongue with my own, and an almost vicious game began as we tangled. At last, he pulled back and kissed my chin, then my neck. I pulled my head back, inviting him to the sensitive flesh of my neck. He kissed my neck again, this time tickling me with his tongue. He kissed my collarbone and down to my already excited nipple. He took it into his mouth, playing his tongue across it, delighting in the moans he was coaxing out of me. I was sure I was so loud anyone could hear me, but what did I care.  
  
I felt his teeth bite into the irritated flesh and I again arched to him.  
  
"More," I moaned, unsure if the word made sense or if it was just another incoherent sound. He bit the flesh again, more sharply, until I was sure I was bleeding, but the pain was ignored for the pleasure. He pulled back, kissed it once more, licked it, and kissed his way down to my stomach, which was rapidly rising and falling with my breathing. He pulled back when he reached my silky black pants.  
  
"Oh, Westley, this will have to go," he said, teasingly pulling at the waist. I arched my hips up, understanding, and he stripped me naked in one smooth movement. I felt him tying my ankles as the cool air played across my now utterly bare body.  
  
My half-hard cock seemed to be begging for some sort of coverage, be it Roberts himself or the pants back. When he returned, I felt the bare skin of his calves brushing against me, and as he leaned in to lay on me, his hip brushing my member, I felt his utter bareness as well.  
  
"Mmm, Westley," he said softly. I tried to entangle my fingers in his hair, tried to bring him up for another deep kiss, but the bonds held tight.  
  
I felt his hand tickle across the outside of my thigh, felt his fingers lightly and nimbly send shivers through me and cause gooseflesh to rise on my skin. I wanted to show I liked this, but knew not how, as I was still tied. I arched into him. This seemed to work.  
  
"Like that, eh?" he whispered. I felt his other hand work its way underneath me, and I lifted my hips to allow his hands to cup my ass. I felt him gently stroke the skin, and I moaned.  
  
He smiled in amusement. "I see I've found where your weakness is," he murmured, glancing meaningfully at my now full erection. I felt a finger gently brush the sensitive pucker of skin and I swear, I must have screamed with pleasure. He laughed and traced circles across the oversensitive skin. Just as I thought he was about to probe into me, he pulled back and got up. He vanished for a moment into the other room and I wondered if I'd displeased him. I wondered if he would leave me tied there, naked, for the rest of the night, then bring in the crew to show me off to them. But my wondering was put at ease as he came back in, a jar of something in his hand.  
  
"I've begun to stay prepared for my men fucking one another," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice and a glint in his eye. "It is, after all, an all-male crew." He used his knees to gently push apart my legs until he could kneel between them. He then opened the jar and tossed the lid carelessly onto the floor before dipping his index and second finger into what was held within.  
  
As he began to probe my tight skin with his first finger, he smiled up at my wondering face. Despite my complete ecstasy, I wondered what he was using. "It's just a homemade remedy for friction," he said softly.  
  
I arched up as high as possible as I felt his finger brush that spot, the spot deep within me where no one had dared even try to reach before. I felt myself holding my breath, hoping for more. But instead, he pulled out and reentered with the two fingers briefly, then pulled out again. I had my eyes closed, panting as I felt the aftereffects of that one little touch.  
  
A moment later, I felt him coming back into me, and I relaxed to allow him entry. I realized a split-second later that this was no finger, and I didn't have to open my eyes to realize he was steering his member into me. I moaned as he filled me, and after he got all the way into me so our hips were grinding together, he pulled halfway out and pushed back in again slowly. He did this many times, speeding up until he was thrusting so hard I could barely keep myself from crying.  
  
I felt countless howls erupt from my mouth, and when he came, deep within me...oh, the ecstasy of that cannot be described. I clenched my internal muscles around him, keeping him in me until he gently took a hold of my own engorged member. As he pulled out, I felt him reposition on the bed. He gently stroked me until I cried out for him.  
  
I felt something hot and moist engulf the head of my cock. His tongue traced the underside lightly as he pushed his mouth further onto me. I felt his hot saliva soaking me until he pulled back, keeping his lips off the flesh, as though he wanted me to be glistening wet. Again, I felt him reposition until he straddled my hips, and I felt his hands gently guide my member into his unprepared body. The resistance turned me on even more as he slowly, gently sheathed me. I moaned as I felt him ride me all the way down until his tanned ass rested on my shockingly pale thighs. He leaned forward and licked my stomach, tracing intricate patterns across my flesh. "Westley," he murmured softly between licks. "Oh, Westley." I felt myself begin to buck into him, and after a moment, the bed threatened to collapse with as much as I was thrusting into him. His hands dug into my sides as he arched his back and threw his head back. I felt myself come and heard his accompanying moan. He pulled himself off of me and lay down beside me, gently playing with my ear in his teeth. He put his arm across my chest and played with my hair between his fingers.  
  
"You have no idea how much I dreamed of that," he whispered, letting go of my ear.  
  
I couldn't resist it. I had to ask him. "Was it as good as you dreamed?" I said softly.  
  
"No," he said. "No, not at all." I turned to look at him in shock. At the very least, I thought he should lie. "It was better," he said before pressing his lips against mine for a hard, passionate, but chaste kiss. The only chaste part of the night. His fingers intertwined with my hair as he pulled me in close. I turned my body as much as I could with my hands and feet still tied.  
  
"Good," I whispered before licking at his lips until he parted them for me so I could probe his mouth, tangling my tongue with his. He reached up after we broke and untied my hands. As he began to get up, I think he intended to free me and send me off for the night, but I grabbed him roughly and pulled him back in to me. I kissed him deeply, passionately once more.  
  
"Next time, it's your turn to be tied up," I whispered before kissing him deeply, our tongues playing together, our hands running up each other's backs.  
  
Now I have told the story I can not ever let my Buttercup know. Part of it, at least. I went back there many nights, but that was the first and every night after was similar, or less racy. May this piece of writing, safe in my journal, be all I need to keep back the urge to tell her, for I have now told it. Even if only to this diary, I have. I hope she never finds out, and is never hurt by this truth which I must admit, is not as shameful as it should be. 


End file.
